


Something Fierce

by anticyclone



Category: Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone
Summary: "Barabas, if you go any slower, you'll be going backwards." They've been circling each other for a while. Something's got to give.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pameluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/gifts).



It was supposed to be a simple shopping trip. Bread, eggs, milk.

The sky was slate gray and the air damp. The weather service was predicting a classic Atlanta thunderstorm, with extra high winds and a chance of flash floods. The mayor had told people to stay off the roads once the storm started in force. But by the time that announcement came out, they had already been on the road, and Barabas hadn't wanted to waste the tech - he  _ hated  _ chanting the car engines up.

Julie and Christopher had left him in the dairy aisle to flee for the parking lot, where Christopher could breathe and Julie wouldn't have to defensively elbow anyone else in the ribs. In retrospect, it was a good thing that Kate hadn't come.

"The man in front of me tried to  _ leave the line _ ." He checked that he wasn't carrying the eggs before tossing the bread into the trunk of the car. "He'd  _ forgotten one thing. _ "

"What you do?"

"I didn't do anything. The cashier stabbed through his shirt to pin his sleeve to the counter. She said he had to finish checking out and go back through the store again if it was that important." He exhaled, forcing out the last of his breath.

Christopher frowned slightly. "The cashier had a knife?"

Julie snorted. "I'd have a knife if I had to work at a grocery store right before a flood."

"Let's get out of here," Barabas said. He slammed the trunk shut with both hands. It didn't make him feel any better.

He had started to turn toward the driver's side when Christopher suddenly grabbed his elbow and pulled. Reflexively, Barabas latched onto the back of Julie's shirt and pulled her down to the concrete with them. She squawked, but quickly ducked back down after peeking over the top of the trunk. The air was starting to feel misty and a couple drops of rain stained the shoulder of her t-shirt.

"What is it?" Barabas asked, as neutrally as he could. Christopher's hand on his arm felt hot through the fabric of his shirt. Christopher had recently ripped a hole in the living room floor because he thought he'd heard something crawling around underneath there. But the whites were showing around Julie's eyes.

"It looks like an owl," Christopher said, slowly. He was using the voice that said he knew he was starting to freak out but was trying very hard not to.

Barabas twisted until he could grip Christopher's hand in his. "Can you describe how-" he started, a drop of rain hitting the back of his neck. He stopped mid-sentence when a metal screech came from the other end of the parking lot.

Unfortunately, he was familiar with the sound of a car roof being torn off. It was even more ominous than usual as the mist had turned to sprinkling and the breeze had turned icy. A distant peal of thunder warned that they needed to be inside sooner rather than later.

"Car-sized."

"Alone?"

"Owls are solitary."

Another metal screech, some organic thudding, and the start of warning shouts as the few other shoppers in the parking lot dashed safely back into the store. They all inched further behind the car. Julie clambered over them and tilted the driver's sideview mirror up, trying to see if she could catch a reflection of the other side of the parking lot. While she fiddled the drizzle shuddered visibly in the wind, and the air itself turned gray. It was well and truly pouring.

Barabas inhaled and decided he was going to hope that car-sized owls had something in common with their regular, non-car-destroying counterparts. He had a knife on him and there was a gun in the car. He just needed to get it out and do - something - until Christopher could get Julie away. There was no more shouting from the parking lot. If everyone else stayed inside and he could keep the owl away from the store, nobody (except him) could get hurt. If he was very lucky, maybe there were some mercs also frantically pre-flood shopping who were just about to join them outside. He looked over at Christopher, who was staring at him.

"You should take Julie and go," they both said at once.

Julie sputtered. "I'm not leaving!"

Barabas took in Christopher's hunched shoulders and the wary set to his mouth. "I need to know Julie isn't alone. It will probably be faster to drive home than to find a working phone. Then you can come back with Kate and Curran."

"I'm a better fighter than you," Christopher said, pale hair slick against his scalp.

Barabas opened his mouth.

"I can take care of y - this. I can take care of this while you take Julie." Christopher's eyes had gone dark. Usually, at this point, a chill would start to creep up Barabas's spine. Now, he couldn't quite close his lips, or move his eyes from Christopher's. "Also? I can fly."

Red smoke curled against his shoulders, and his wings snapped into place. Before Barabas could gather his thoughts, Christopher leaned over and pressed their mouths together. Since he hadn't managed to stop gaping, Barabas's lips were still parted. Christopher tasted like rain and sweat. He held Barabas's face in both hands in a near-bruising grip.

For a second it felt like he wasn't sitting in a puddle in a dark parking lot with lightning cracking overhead. Christopher let a hot breath out against his skin and bit Barabas's lower lip before pulling away.

He heaved himself up, took two steps back and flexed his wings. He didn't even bother to use his legs to shove himself off the ground - he didn't need to, his wings could carry his weight on their own. Barabas put his hands on the asphalt and took a couple of breaths, inhaling rain in the process. His pulse was beating painfully in his throat and his lip throbbed.

"That was hot," Julie whispered. "Are you dating now?"

"No." It was very difficult to focus when he could still feel Christopher's hand gripping his jaw.

Julie gave him a sideways look. "You already live together."

"Get in the car, Julie."

***

It took eleven minutes to drive back to the house, three minutes to get Julie out of the car and Kate and Curran inside, and two minutes heading out of the subdivision to run into Christopher. He'd flown back home with the owl monster on his tail. 

Before she went back to her own house, Kate told him that his eyes had gone red by the time they spilled out of the car together.

It kept raining all through the fight. The ground was covered in a half inch of water when the owl monster was dead. For their houses' sake, Barabas hoped that their neighborhood was on a high enough incline to avoid any further flooding. He stood outside the front door and considered stripping out of his clothes before stepping inside, but Christopher had left the door cracked.

He was leaning up against the wall, his forehead pressed to the plaster.

"How are you?"

Shutting the door against the weather, he stopped to take his shoes off. His socks squelched, so he pulled those off too. Now that he was inside he realized the rain had been freezing - it took a second to peel his shirt off and over his head. Christopher didn't glance over or answer during any of it.

"Come on," Barabas said, after a moment. He took Christopher's hand in his and led him to his bedroom. Christopher let his damp wings trail along the floor behind him, and held onto him loosely. It was hardly the crushing grip he'd used to hold Barabas still earlier but it got them where they were going. Barabas's stomach had an anxious twist to it, but his blood wasn't hot and threatening like it had been when Christopher had bit his lip.

The bedroom vacillated between sparkling and chaos depending on Christopher's mood. Right now laundry spilled over the top of the basket in the corner, but the rest of the place was clean. Barabas pulled a lightly used towel out of the laundry.

"Do you want…?" He stood on the opposite side of the bed.

Christopher made eye contact but didn't move.

After another moment, Barabas gave himself a shake. This was nothing he hadn't had to help Christopher with before. It didn't matter what had happened in the parking lot. They'd just fought a giant owl in the pouring rain. Their clothes were mud-spattered and his own hair felt like it had actual clumps of grass stuck in it. He took a breath and started by toweling off Christopher's head. When that was done, Christopher took his shoes and socks off by himself. He hesitated before stripping out of his shirt, but pulled the hem up as soon as Barabas started backing away. Apparently the shirt already had holes ripped open for his wings. He didn't fold them back in.

Okay. Barabas dried off Christopher's shoulders and briefly swiped the towel over his stomach, trying to ignore the way Christopher was watching his hands. His pulse was up, but he was unsettlingly certain it wasn't at at all related with the god-of-terror thing.

He carefully dragged the towel down between Christopher's wings. The dark red feathers were dripping onto the carpet. It seemed like the water was sitting on top of them, instead of soaked in. He hesitated before pulling his hand back. "I don't know how to touch your wings without hurting you," he murmured.

With a sigh, Christopher's wings disappeared. It was always a slightly disconcerting thing to watch. One second they were there, the next they weren't. Barabas was used to transformations that took a physical toll.

He glanced away when Christopher turned back to face him. "You can have the shower first."

Christopher took the towel from his hands. He shook his head silently, and brought it up to towel Barabas's hair. Under damp pink cotton (the towel had gone through the wash with a brand-new red t-shirt recently), Barabas blinked. The towel couldn't get rid of much of the water at this point, but it did brush some grass out.

Next, Christopher brought the towel down behind Barabas's head and neck. He didn't think much as the man rubbed warmth back into his shoulders, but that was mostly because he was concentrating hard on staying still and keeping his eyes down. He wasn't sure what would happen if he knew what Christopher's face looked like right then. He managed not to make a fool of himself until Christopher let the towel fall around his waist, wrapped the ends of the fabric around his hands, and used it to pull Barabas a step closer.

Barabas swallowed audibly. The only other things he could hear were rain against the windows and his heart thudding in his chest.

He couldn't catch his breath, and had no idea what to do with his hands. His choices were to let them hang at his side or to splay them against Christopher's stomach, which was tempting, but he his fingers were still cold and Christopher's entire body was radiating heat. The towel dug in as the other man tugged him a little closer still, not quite touching, except when Barabas tried to take a deep breath to steady himself and their chests brushed. The breath didn't help at all.

"You have a bruise," Christopher said.

"It's fine." Actually, it was lodged painfully between two of his ribs but he wasn't going to  _ say  _ that. Christopher was blinking slowly, breathing slowly. He hadn't met Barabas's eyes. For a second he struggled - it would be so very easy to reach out, to roll his thumb over Christopher's stomach, to take his -

A hard crash of thunder shook the house. The room went black.

Somewhere downstairs, Maggie whined, and Barabas was distantly aware of her starting to climb the stairs toward the bedroom. Christopher dropped the towel and took a couple of jerky steps back until he hit the mattress edge.

Barabas had to wipe at his eyes before they adjusted to the dark, and then he  _ was  _ touching Christopher: running both hands up the side of his face, back through his hair, down the still-damp nape of his neck. It was routine. It felt like the tech was still up, but this wasn't the first storm of the season and they'd dealt with power outages before. Together they had built a system.

Hands on Christopher's shoulders now. "It's fine, it's fine," even though wrapping his arms around the man and tugging him into a tight embrace aggravated the bruise on his ribs and something deep in his chest that he hoped wasn't an internal injury. Christopher's skin was burning up and his stomach felt like fire pressed against Barabas's. 

Christopher jerked his hands up and clutched at Barabas's arms. Normally he would twist the fabric of his sleeves in his hands, but Barabas's shirt was still on the floor. His fingers slipped over Barabas's skin and he plucked at them a little uselessly. "It's fine, it's fine," Barabas whispered, trying not to shudder when Christopher's head suddenly dropped against his shoulder. His lips were resting on Barabas's bare skin.

The rain kept falling while Christopher shook in his arms. Barabas's bruise hurt, his chest hurt, his gut twisted guiltily. All he could think of was Christopher's mouth. How tight Christopher was holding his arms and how hard he'd gripped Barabas back in the parking lot, his tongue in Barabas's mouth for a moment, his teeth tugging on Barabas's lip.

The dog padded into the room, whuffing softly.

Christopher let him go to kneel on the carpet. "It's fine," he told Maggie. "It's fine."

"I shouldn't get in your bed without showering," Barabas said, watching them settle underneath the covers. He knew Christopher probably couldn't make out the details of his face in the dark, but he still shot Barabas an extremely Kate-like expression at that pronouncement. They were spending too much time together.

He hesitated, then decided that he could do laundry tomorrow, and reluctantly climbed into the bed, too. It was storm routine. It was storm routine.

Christopher gingerly rolled over, careful not to crush the dog as he put his back to Barabas. After a long, quiet moment, he murmured, "It's fine?"

"Yeah." Barabas felt the ache in his chest expand as he reached over and pulled Christopher's back up against his chest. Storm routine. Hold him close, and it didn't matter if the power didn't return until the next day. Except normally they had shirts on. He forced himself to laugh when Christopher shivered a little, because the alternative was to roll on top of him. "I'll warm up in a minute," he promised.

Christopher folded a hand over the one Barabas had on his stomach. He linked their fingers together, and rubbed his thumb in an arc over Barabas's hand. Storm routine. "It's fine."

The pain in his chest probably wasn't internal bleeding.

***

Several hours later, Barabas woke to see the lights back on and feeling exactly like he'd recently been dropped ten feet by a giant owl monster. The bruise on his ribs felt like it had spread out while he'd been sleeping. He took one look at the clock and pressed his face into his pillow. That was why it took a couple of minutes to realize he was smelling … something.

He couldn't face the idea of getting into the shower just now, but he did manage to change into clean sweatpants and a loose t-shirt before going downstairs. Christopher was wrapped up in one of  _ his  _ dress shirts, which made the muscles in Barabas's hands go weak for a split second. Sometimes Christopher did this, take clothes from his closet, and it never failed to catch him off guard. Christopher was looking out the back window and there was a fresh pie sitting on a trivet on the counter.

"You made pie?"

"An apple pie."

"You made an apple pie." Sure, Christopher liked to cook - but the ground outside was still covered in water. It looked like a miniature lake had formed in their backyard. The water was black and reflecting only slivers of moonlight through the clouds and the yellow light from the house. He was surprised the power was on. It would have taken at least a couple of hours to bake this.

"It was something Kate said to me once."

Barabas raised his eyebrows, but there was no elaboration. He stepped closer to the counter and wondered what Kate possibly would have been doing talking to Christopher about pie. They could have just been sharing recipes.

"It's still cooling off," Christopher said, apologetically.

"That's okay. I'm not hungry yet." Which reminded him that the groceries would still be in the car. The bread would probably be okay, but he wasn't swimming just to get it.

He sat down in front of the pie so he'd be breathing in the scent of it instead of his own smell all over the shirt Christopher was wearing. All over Christopher's skin. It almost completely worked. The pie didn't particularly smell like any of the pies Kate baked, but what did Barabas know about food?

Oh.

Christopher had turned to watch him, now.

Barabas inhaled slowly, trying to block everything else out with cinnamon smell. If he didn't raise his eyes he didn't have to figure out what to say. Probably he was being - it couldn't - Like Julie had said, they already lived together. Of course they were going to be feeding each other. It wouldn't make sense for Kate to have talked to Christopher about  _ that,  _ about what it meant to feed someone you - They must have been sharing recipes.

"I was worried the owl was going to eat you."

Barabas grimaced and felt his bruises twinge. "We-" He started, then remembered Christopher hissing at him,  _ I can take care of this, _ "-You handled it. Minimal damage. It's okay, really."

"Is it?"

He blinked. Christopher looked so sad. "Of course. I'm okay. Really." He stood up like that was going to prove it.

Christopher slowly walked over to him, and raised his fingers to Barabas's jaw. "That's the second time we've kissed and you haven't wanted to talk about it."

Barabas blinked and found himself reflexively leaning back. Christopher reluctantly let his hand fall, pulling it to his chest instead. "We weren't - I mean - at Kate's wedding," Barabas said, struggling to turn with the conversation.  _ When you were wearing that suit, with one of my shirts,  _ he thought. "We had both been drinking, and-"

"Did you think I didn't remember?"

He didn't respond. Christopher kept staring at him, arm folded up protectively against his chest. Of - of course he hadn't thought Christopher  _ forgot,  _ how could he  _ forget, _ but he hadn't mentioned it the next day, and Barabas had assumed it was on purpose. He opened his mouth, hoping Christopher would interrupt him and he wouldn't have to admit this, but it didn't happen. "I thought you regretted it," he said.

The hurt that flickered over Christopher's face was worse than being dropped ten feet.

"Wait," Barabas said, even though the other man hadn't moved. "You weren't there when I woke up. You were outside meditating. You stayed out there for hours. I thought you were trying to tell me I had gone too fast, that I had pushed too hard. I fell asleep on top of you. It felt like I had taken advantage." His face was heating up, bright red, while Christopher kept staring at him. He felt like someone had stripped him bare. The kitchen was suddenly freezing. They'd made out messily after the wedding, fell asleep drunk in Barabas's bed, and… he'd woken up by himself. Like today.

"You didn't force me."

"It  _ felt  _ like it," Barabas said, helplessly. Now it felt like he was trying to hold everything in the house together with one hand tied behind his back, his tongue tired and clumsy in his mouth. It had all felt perfectly rational at the time but now seemed absurd in the light of Christopher's expression.

Christopher's hand clenched and unclenched over his chest. "Does it still feel like that?"

He only barely managed not to say that it hurt, that it ached something fierce. Instead he blurted, embarrassingly naked, "It feels like I can't handle fucking this up."

"Barabas, if you go any slower, you'll be going backwards." Christopher's voice was low and a little gravelly.

He was maybe still unprepared for how quickly Barabas could move when he wanted to, because the noise he made when Barabas wrapped a hand over the back of his head and tilted his face up was one of surprise. But he managed to get his arm out from in between them before Barabas had pinned him to the wall, and he slid his hand under Barabas's shirt while Barabas kissed and sucked a dark mark on Christopher's jaw. His other hand came up to run through Barabas's hair.

"Do you know how hard it is for me when you wear my clothes?" Barabas asked, frustrated that he couldn't get the top button of the borrowed shirt undone. If they were doing this, he might as well leave everything on the table.

"Really," Christopher responded, the picture of innocence. "I had no idea."

Barabas glared at him. "For Kate's wedding," he said, the words coming slowly through the foggy heat in his head, "you said you had to borrow one of my shirts because you spilled wine on the one that came with your suit."

"I like you for your brains," Christopher said, very seriously.

Digging his fingers into the shirt collar, Barabas abandoned fighting with the buttons and tore the shirt open instead. Some of the buttons made tiny clinking sounds as they rolled over the tile floor. The lightly amused look on Christopher's face disappeared, melting away as he bit his lip. Barabas leaned down and kissed him hard enough to force his lips apart. He rocked his hips tightly against Christopher's and was deeply gratified by the noise he got in return.

He ran his hands along Christopher's sides and dug his fingers into Christopher's hips, just barely exposed above the waist of his sweatpants. Christopher tasted less like rain this time and more like he'd been sampling apples and spices as he'd baked.

Suddenly Christopher sucked in a damp breath and ran his hand up through Barabas's hair, twisting it around his fingers. Barabas gave a little hiss as Christopher yanked his head back. He didn't  _ want  _ to stop - but then he noticed Christopher's pupils had gone slightly too wide, and that a sliver of the color had drained from his face. He swallowed noisily and tried to reign himself in. It was hard to take his hands off Christopher's hips, hard to start to pull them back instead of pressing his palms against the wall.

"We can't let Maggie eat the pie," Christopher blurted.

They were words, they had come out of his mouth, but Barabas had no idea what any of them meant. "What?"

"I put nutmeg and cinnamon in it. She's going to eat it."

Christopher tapped a finger against the side of his head and Barabas glanced back at the kitchen counter. Maggie, who normally whined and whined until they picked her up and put her on top of things, was already on top of the stool and had one paw on the counter. She shot them a wide-eyed doggy stare while Barabas struggled to reorient himself. Then the chihuahua-mix lunged forward.

Barabas was faster. Although Maggie did manage to clamp her tiny doggy teeth onto his sleeve.

He held the too-hot pie tin in both hands, breathing through clenched teeth, while Christopher scooped Maggie up and put her back down on the floor. She collapsed in a defeated heap when the pie was safely back in the oven to cool. Not even offering her a treat made her raise her head. (Although it didn't stop her from nibbling on it when Christopher nudged the treat up to her mouth.)

They stared at each other for a second.

"Your room," Christopher said.


	2. Chapter 2

Barabas paused to shut the door behind them and Christopher finished taking off the borrowed shirt, tossing it onto the bead ahead of them. Barabas realized his hands were shaking. All of the blood in his body felt too hot.

He had to swallow again when Christopher tilted his head to one side and ran his eyes up and down his frame. He made a little motion with his hand, twice, until it sank in what he was asking for and Barabas obligingly peeled his t-shirt off. He may have paused for a second with his arms in the air, chest and stomach exposed, before balling the shirt up in his hand and tossing it toward the laundry basket. It missed and fell in a heap against the closet door instead.

"I wanted to do this after we fought Nimrod," Christopher said.

Barabas reflexively touched his hand to his thigh. Both of his legs had been broken when he'd been trampled during the battle - knives were all well and good, but a mongoose wasn't built to fight a bull.

"I was not in the best shape," he said.

What he mostly remembered from drugged, sleep-filled days he spent recovering in the Keep's medward was Christopher pacing around the room. Christopher's wings snapping every time there was a noise. Christopher carrying him to the car when he'd started to wean off the pain pills and told Doolittle he couldn't stand another day in the Keep. At the time he had complained, because he could have used crutches at that point, at least on the flat parts.

Slowly, Christopher walked over to him. He pressed one palm to Barabas's stomach and slowly moved it to curl around his hip. "I thought you were going to die."

"I promised you I wouldn't." It'd been what he'd said before the battle, the thing that finally convinced Christopher it was safe to leave him on the ground while he fought from the air.

Christopher brushed his mouth against Barabas's without quite pressing into a kiss. Barabas's hands twitched, and he shut his eyes when Christopher nuzzled the same spot on his shoulder where he'd laid his head after the power went out. Christopher mouthed at his bare skin for a moment before nipping at it with his teeth. Barabas slid his hand through Christopher's hair. Then he brought his hands back to Christopher's hips, gripped a little so he could hold Christopher to him while murmuring promises - better promises - into his ear. 

Christopher shook but wrapped his arms around Barabas's shoulders. He gripped him tightly enough that just breathing meant they were grinding against each other slowly. It was lucky that Barabas already had his hands low enough to rub circles into Christopher's hips with his thumbs, because for the moment, all he could do was stand there while Christopher held him. 

If he had wanted to break away, he could have, but he couldn't imagine wanting to. Christopher's tongue was hot in Barabas's mouth and it was driving him completely insane that he hadn't done this earlier, when Christopher had been using that towel to hold him and - God fucking damn it, he'd been so stupid. He started, jerking back just enough that he could grab Christopher's wrists, and broke the kiss. He pressed his face into Christopher's hair and breathed deep, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden surge of dizziness. Christopher already smelled like him.

Christopher laughed softly. Barabas opened his eyes and saw his wings had appeared. Okay. He could roll with that. Then Christopher grinned, mostly teeth, and said, "You're mine."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" It came out more of a growl than he had intended, which just made Christopher laugh again.

That wasn't the noise he wanted Christopher making. He lurched forward, pressing his thighs against Christopher's, moving them across the room toward the bed. Christopher let himself be held and prodded but neatly flipped them around at the last second so Barabas was the first one to hit the mattress.

"You don't have to look at me like that. I'm not going anywhere," Christopher murmured. He brought his wrists up, twisting them out of Barabas's clutching hands, and linked their fingers together again. "Can you hold still?"

Barabas glared at him. His shoulders were sinking into the mattress and Christopher was barely on the bed with him, balancing on one knee placed neatly between Barabas's thighs. He was already half-hard and Christopher's mouth was still red and damp. "I could barely stop in the kitchen," he admitted. "I'm not sure-"

"You did stop, though." Christopher squeezed his hands. His wings flexed and then pulled in close to his body.

He groaned, but turned his head to the side. Christopher bent down and laid quick kisses along the line of his jaw. Barabas wanted to dig his hands into the sheets, but Christopher wouldn't let his hands go yet. He shifted his weight so his other knee could settle onto the bed, and leaned the full length of his body along Barabas's. His wings shifted to touch the bed. He stopped to work at the pulse point in Barabas's throat, nipping at the skin and swirling his tongue over the spot.

_ "Christopher." _

He let go of Barabas's hands, which wrenched a moan out of him. Barabas had to grab at the sheets to stop himself from pulling Christopher back up when he began nuzzling Barabas's chest. His hands slid down to stroke gently over his ribs, his mouth stopped, preoccupied with a tiny white scar just below Barabas's nipple. It was physically painful to have Christopher's mouth that close, so he entirely missed that Christopher was sliding his sweatpants and boxers away from his hips until his hand was already wrapped around the base of Barabas's cock.

Barabas sweated with the effort of not lifting his hips up into Christopher's hand. Christopher licked his nipple and lightly ran his hand up and down Barabas's length, already hard.

"You're mine," Christopher said again.

Not getting an immediate response, he stopped with his thumb against the head of Barabas's cock. It was very difficult to get his head to clear, because Christopher was smearing a little of his precum over his skin, but Barabas finally realized there was a question in Christopher's face. It distantly occurred to him that Christopher had gone quite a while without anything to call his own.

"Yours," he agreed.

Christopher's eyes flickered. "Do you know what you look like right now?"

Heat built up beneath his shoulders. His breathing was damp and stuttering. He opened his mouth to answer, but Christopher was stroking him again, slow and deliberate, and it drew a sound out of Barabas like he'd been punched in the cut. Christopher  _ smirked,  _ which was not a look Barabas had seen on his face before. It looked good. It looked  _ satisfying,  _ and he imagined that was what Christopher was thinking of him at that moment.

He didn't protest when, a few minutes later, Barabas couldn't hold still any longer. He started thrusting forward when Christopher drew his hand back - it took a couple of fumbling moments before their rhythms matched, and Christopher brought his mouth down to kiss a spot just below Barabas's ear.

"I was starting to think we were never going to do this," he said. His thumb teased the crown of Barabas's cock, one hand keeping Barabas's shoulder flat against the mattress. His soft pale hair was sliding over Barabas's skin every time he breathed and when he brought his face back up he was maybe the single best thing Barabas had ever seen.

He lost it right before he came, hands losing purchase on the sheets. Every thrust was hot and sparked brightly in his gut. His fingers curled into tight fists and he mumbled, desperate, "Christopher - fuck, Christopher-"

When Christopher reached up with his free hand to cup against Barabas's face he turned his head to kiss his palm. Christopher's hand twitched and Barabas closed his lips over two of his fingertips, sucking and pressing his tongue to Christopher's skin. The noise Christopher made was full of promises and Barabas shuddered as he came messily into Christopher's hand. Christopher's fingers kept teasing him through the next few shocks, which rolled so heavily through him that he could only hear the first syllable when Christopher said his name into his ear.

The next moment of clarity he had, Christopher was fumbling to get his own sweats off - Barabas swallowed, seeing his hand smeared with white, and he propped himself up on his elbows. He hadn't expected his voice to be hoarse when he spoke, but there it was. "Do you want some help?"

"Don't I always?" Christopher asked, shooting him a lopsided smile. His face was pink and he bit at his lip when Barabas flicked his eyes down to his hips.

Together they turned around so Christopher was sitting on the edge of the bed and Barabas could pull his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor. He rolled them into a ball and nudged them aside, ignoring it when Christopher's hands tried to tug him into bed by the shoulders. He shouldered Christopher's knees apart and kissed at his thighs. On either side of him, his wings were resting along the edge of the mattress, and they fluttered a little at the kisses. Barabas could feel the air move over his shoulders.

He ran one hand over Christopher's leg and rubbed his face over the crease of his hip, indulging himself for a moment. Christopher smelled so - so good, and his lean body was soft and slightly hairy right here. He inhaled deeply and kissed Christopher's stomach above his navel. Christopher whined,  _ "Barabas, _ " and Barabas gave in, licking a few quick stripes down his cock and then nipping at his stomach with his teeth.

It didn't take long before Christopher was panting for breath above him. He dropped his head to his chest and groaned when Barabas finally turned and closed his lips over the head of his cock. His wings suddenly snapped forward, big enough to close over Barabas from behind. The feathers felt about as soft as Christopher's hair. He sucked for a moment before reaching up and working the base of Christopher's cock with his fingers, his thumb brushing down toward his balls, while his tongue swirled circles into hypersensitive skin.

At one point he flicked his eyes up. He waited to do it until he had taken Christopher nearly down to the hilt, and Christopher's entire body twitched, making Barabas grin. He tried to push forward a little and Barabas was careful to slide away, keeping himself just an inch further back than Christopher wanted, building up the tension while he could still get away with it.

"If f-feels like you've been thinking about this," Christopher mumbled at one point. He had one hand on the bed behind him and his arm was trembling slightly. "You keep - fuck, you keep shutting your eyes and-" He stopped and had to squeeze his own eyes shut for a second.

Barabas made him jerk back up with a gentle bite to his thigh. He sucked at it until it turned as pink as Christopher's face. "Maybe I have been," he said, and took Christopher back into his mouth.

When Christopher groaned and thrust forward,  _ hard, _ Barabas let him, taking him into his throat once, twice, before reaching up with both hands to grab at Christopher's hips. Christopher was able to handle being held in place for about eight seconds before his hands were reaching forward to clutch at Barabas's hair.

He felt his chest flush with heat as Christopher pulled him greedily back down his cock. He was thick and filled Barabas's mouth completely, and he had to breathe through his nose as Christopher pushed and pulled his head back and forth. His wings were drawing in, forcing Barabas to lean forward, and Christopher made a not unpleasant choking sound when Barabas accidentally braced himself by grabbing hold of one of them.

It seemed to take a minute for it to sink in that Barabas wasn't fighting him, and then the desperation started to fade, until Christopher's hands were just loosely stroking his head and Barabas could stop for breath and use his tongue again. His fingers gently traced the curve of Barabas's ear, while Barabas coaxed little shudders and whimpers out of him. His cock was slick and easier and easier to take, until he went stiff in Barabas's hands. He closed his lips over Christopher's skin and sucked, careful and then harder, until Christopher was spilling hot down his throat. His body did that all-over twitch a few more times, his fingers grasping and going weak in Barabas's hair.

Barabas shut his eyes and swallowed until there wasn't anything left. Then pulled back and opened his eyes, lazily licking at his lower lip. Christopher's pupils were blown wide and he was completely frozen, staring.

He took it back. This was the best thing he had ever seen.

***

It was well and truly morning when he finally woke up. Judging from the glare of sunlight through the bedroom blinds Barabas guessed that it was nearly ten. The storm must have cleared away completely overnight. He could have confirmed what time it was with the analog alarm clock on his bedside table, but Christopher was pressed up against his back, wrapped around him like an octopus, and he couldn't turn his head that far.

He blinked until his eyes had adjusted to the light. Christopher's breath was slow and even behind him. They must have slept for at least seven hours. It was really just a touch too cold to be sleeping naked, but he couldn't bring himself to shake Christopher off just to find pajamas.

It soaked in the longer he lay in the sunlight. Christopher was in bed with him. Christopher had  _ stayed  _ in bed with him. Taking a breath, he laid one of his hands over Christopher's, pressed flat against Barabas's stomach.

Eventually Christopher stirred awake. He made happy, sleepy sounds and nuzzled Barabas's shoulder. "What time is it?" he asked, yawning.

"No idea," Barabas drawled. "Somebody's got me pinned to the mattress."

Christopher laughed. That was a good sound. "Oh, did you want to get up?" he asked. He used the leg tossed over both of Barabas's to tug him a little closer.

"Eventually. Not now."

"Good." Christopher kissed his neck. He brought a hand up to gingerly touch the mark above his pulse. "This is going to be difficult to cover up."

Barabas stretched, which pushed his ass up against Christopher and made Christopher's breath hitch. Since Christopher couldn't see his face, he let himself smirk. Mmm. "It's fine. It'll heal pretty quickly."

"How are your ribs?"

"Fine." He elbowed Christopher a little until the man let go and let him flip over. Christopher's pale face was still a little pink, but it looked like a good flush. He let his thumb brush over Christopher's lip and bent forward to kiss him when Christopher smiled.

Going downstairs seemed too much to face, and Maggie was sleeping on the top step, so they stayed on the second story. When Barabas came out of the shower Christopher was sitting on the edge of the mattress and gingerly rubbing his back.

He shook his head when Barabas frowned. "Phantom pain."

"Phantom…?"

"Sometimes they're sore even when they don't exist."

Barabas blinked, and realized he was talking about his wings. "How long does it take to go away?" he asked. He walked over to the bed and ran a hand through Christopher's hair.

"Depends." Christopher had half-shut his eyes, which usually meant he was about to go curl up in his hammock for a few hours.

Barabas sat down behind him on the mattress and looped his arms around his waist. "Hey," he murmured. "Can I see?"

He got a very puzzled look in return, but Christopher shook him off and obliged.

This was the first time Christopher had turned his back while his wings were manifest. It was something. Part of Barabas's brain kept trying to insist that perhaps this was just a deeply impressive partial transformation, part struggled to reconcile the origin with the current picture. These wings were visible, physical evidence of something that had nearly killed Christopher before they'd even met. And yet, here he was.

Barabas leaned forward and kissed the back of Christopher's neck. He made a pleasant noise and let Barabas nudge him until he was lying flat on his stomach on the bed, with Barabas's knees on either side of his hips. Letting the bed carry the weight of his wings seemed to take some of the tension out of his shoulders.

Slowly, Barabas worked his hands up the middle of Christopher's back, edging them closer and closer to the ridges of his wings. The line where skin started to morph to wing was peppered with very soft down, nearly pink compared to how dark most of Christopher's feathers were. He hesitated for a moment before running a single finger along the ridge of one wing. Christopher sighed softly, and he kept going, first up the side of one wing and then the other, reaching as far as he could without leaning over too far. His wings really were enormous.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"Mmph," Christopher said, face pressed into his pillow.

A few moments later, when Barabas cautiously eased his thumb down between a few feathers and pressed it gently against skin, Christopher sucked in a damp breath. The ends of his wings stretched and lifted off the mattress. Okay.

The dark feathers were smooth to the touch but slightly resistant and stiff - Barabas had to be very careful when looking for places to work his hands in, spots to roll his thumbs over. He had given back rubs before and he was distantly familiar with the general outline of how wings worked. It wasn't difficult to combine the two. It was a little hard to stay focused through some of the sounds Christopher made when his hands found a particularly sensitive spot, though.

He did have to stare at the contrast between his slim fingers and the dark red feathers: he vividly remembered feeling like someone had ripped his guts out when arrows had pierced Christopher's wings during the fight with Roland. But each time he massaged his fingers down into Christopher's wings, they were solid and whole.

Christopher finally turned his head to the side to breathe better. A couple of minutes later, he was gripping one of the slats in the headboard with one hand, his knuckles white, while Barabas nuzzled the feathers of one wing and slid his hand over Christopher's hip. From the way Christopher was starting to angle against the mattress, he could imagine just what he'd find if he reached underneath them. His own cock was already half hard, and it was so easy to just roll his hips against Christopher like this, to urge his legs apart slightly.

"Can you-?" Christopher asked.

Barabas reluctantly raised his head. He didn't want to take his hands off Christopher. Unfortunately… "I've got a bit of a logistical issue," he said, touching the bottom ridge of Christopher's wing. His wings spread down past his hips. It would mean sliding off the bed to bring his hand around.

Christopher groaned, but let go of the headboard and folded his wings in to make it easier to roll onto his back. Barabas swallowed.

Sunlight coming in through the bedroom blinds made for slim shadows cutting over Christopher's chest. Barabas settled back onto the bed and cupped Christopher's face in his hands. He slid his tongue into Christopher's mouth and they kissed until the heat in Barabas's skin spilled into his chest and he couldn't wait any longer. He strained to reach the bedside table and pull out a bottle that made Christopher's pupils go big.

A couple of agonizing minutes later, Christopher propped himself up on his elbows. His pale hair fell into his eyes, and he bit his lip to keep from  _ pulling  _ Barabas onto him instead of letting him work himself down Christopher's cock slowly. The naked force of effort on his face was almost enough to bring Barabas over the edge early.

He did hiss with surprise when, after a few moments of letting him rock up and down, Christopher let his wings and the headboard keep him upright and reached out to wrap his arms around Barabas's shoulders. He tugged him forward, until their chests touched, and Barabas was having as much trouble keeping his breath even as Christopher was keeping his hands steady.

When Barabas tightened his hand on Christopher's shoulder, his fingers catching some feathers on the way, Christopher reflexively jerked his hips up, enough to push his cock into Barabas completely. They kissed so their teeth clicked. Barabas was pretty sure that he looked ridiculous - sweaty, shaking a little, letting out the most embarrassing startled laughs every time Christopher's feather-light touch on his hips tightened and held them close together.

Christopher groaned and bumped their foreheads together. "You keep giggling."

_ "Jesus,"  _ Barabas said, feeling his face go red. He tried to tamp down the next laugh, but Christopher smirked at his reaction, and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't even make himself sound serious when he said, "I can't believe I'm finally getting to fuck you and you're making fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you." Christopher swallowed when Barabas ground his hips down. "It's - it's cute-"

_ "Cute." _

Christopher laughed again, but shut up pretty quickly when Barabas reached between them to start stroking his own cock. He leaned back so his head rested on the top of the headboard, his face tilted up toward the ceiling. His fingers, which hadn't been able to find a good grip thus far, dug into Barabas's hips hard enough to make the skin under them go white. It brought a violent sound out of Barabas and when Christopher raised his head again, he was staring at him through barely open eyes and with a wide smirk on his face.

The rhythm tumbled into a slow back-and-forth slide, Christopher bringing him down hard and lifting him back up slowly. The heat that had washed over his face dipped down into his stomach and Barabas found his hand slipping faster over his cock. He tried to say something when Christopher leaned up to bite at his bottom lip, but all that spilled out were nonsense sounds. Christopher made a few similar noises when Barabas's fingers went loose a few moments later. He came over Christopher's stomach and the heat soared to nearly burning.

He threaded one hand through Christopher's hair and found himself stroking the upper part of one wing as Christopher rocked up into him again. He kissed the mottled mark he'd sucked on Christopher's jaw last night and reached down with his free hand to wrap his fingers around Christopher's wrist. He felt like he had to press his fingers into Christopher's pulse, had to feel the same burning heat under Christopher's skin, or he wasn't going to be able to hold himself together.

He nearly didn't - it wasn't long before Christopher was coming hot inside him, whispering something into his hair that he couldn't quite hear over the rumble of his own stuttered breath. The touch of his hands was so bright on Barabas's hips he was surprised they didn't leave a mark.

***

They lay in bed together for a long while and only raised their heads because they heard a pounding at the front door.

Christopher played paper to his rock, so, grumbling, Barabas rolled out of bed. He grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, and tugged his t-shirt back on as he slunk down the stairs.  _ "What?" _

On the front step, Julie wore yellow rubber boots and held a shovel in one hand. She glared at him and started gesturing very pointedly as she spoke. "The owl monster is starting to stink. There's no magical residue, so the city said to call animal control. Animal control said they don't handle things that won't fit in a horse trailer. Oh, and it's a  _ 'municipal holiday,'  _ so the sanitation department is closed. Every time we get near the body, Kate starts throwing up. Curran is busy holding her hair back. Everyone else I tried is working or not picking up, and I am  _ not  _ burying it by myself," she said.

Then her eyes got very wide, and Barabas clapped a hand over his throat.

She pointed one finger at him. She was starting to laugh. Like a goddamn hickey alarm. "I knew it!"

"One more word, and I will not help you bury that corpse."

Julie grinned, wickedly. "If you don't help me bury the corpse, I'll call your mom. She'll be  _ so  _ happy. If she can't get through on the phone, she may even come over!"

They stared at each other for a long minute. Barabas, who had once essentially been the Beast Lord's personal lawyer, and rightly feared throughout the Pack and even the Casino, ran alternative proposals through his head.

When he was done, he sighed. "Let me find some shoes."

**Author's Note:**

> Brief research told me that mongoose (mongeese??) have a distinctive noise they make when they are ready to breed, called "giggling." There were video examples. Honestly, I was slightly too afraid to click on them, but it was a detail that seemed to beg including.


End file.
